A Lapse in Judgement
by half agony and hope
Summary: "'I almost died,' Lisbon whispers. 'And we panicked; we overreacted. It's understandable. To be expected, even.'" Jane and Lisbon try to work through the attempt on her life. Post Red John's Footsteps.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: I have no time to write another multichapter. So of course I'm writing another multichapter, set immediately after the season 1 finale. At the moment, I'm not sure how long it will be, but it should be several chapters at the least. I'm aware that similar scenarios probably have been explored before, but hopefully that won't dampen anyone's enjoyment of the story. I've loved writing it so far, and I hope you all enjoy it just as much.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

"I should go," she says.

Jane tenses behind her, and his fingertips abruptly stop their movement across her bare hip. He shifts, his muscles moving against her own, before she hears him speak.

"What if you don't?"

The words come out a whisper, but his tone is sure.

Lisbon rolls over to face him, pulling the thin sheet over her chest.

"What exactly do you mean?" she asks. "Are we talking long term or short term here?"

When their eyes meet, Jane becomes hesitant. She watches as his fingers shake when he reaches out to brush them against her shoulder, the crook of her neck.

"Either," he says, his voice low. "Both."

"Jane," she responds immediately, her tone almost scolding. "We can't –"

"In case you didn't notice, Lisbon, we just did."

Lisbon shivers at the suggestion in his voice, at the way his fingers skim across her jaw.

"I almost died," Lisbon whispers. "And we panicked; we overreacted. It's understandable. To be expected, even."

She watches as a beam of light, sneaking in through the slit in the hotel curtains, flashes across his face as a car pulls out of the adjacent parking lot. His darkened eyes illuminate.

"Maybe we panicked. Maybe it was an overreaction. But…" he trails off.

"What?"

He leans down to kiss her. She lets him.

"I'm happy," he whispers against her lips. "It's such a foreign feeling to me that I almost couldn't name it. Don't you think we deserve to be happy every once in a while?"

"What are you suggesting? That whenever we have a bad day we just…"

Jane shakes his head. "I don't mean it like that," he says. "All I'm trying to say is that there are going to be days when we both need a human connection. Tonight, you needed to be held, and I needed to feel you, alive, against me. I'm offering you two arms to hold you, a warm bed when you need it."

He shifts again, and the sheet falls to his hip. Lisbon shivers.

She studies his face, taking in the lines at the corner of his eyes, the slope of his lips, the strength of his jaw. And she almost says yes.

Then she sighs.

"Tell me you're not tearing yourself apart on the inside because of what we've just done," Lisbon says, reaching for his hand. "I'm the first since your wife, right?"

"My wife is dead, Lisbon."

"So I am the first? How are you dealing with that?"

Jane sighs and then rolls onto his back. Lisbon props herself up on an elbow to wait for his answer.

"Not well," he says eventually.

She nods. "I thought so."

Then he turns his head to look up at her. "My wife is dead," he repeats. "What I do now can't hurt her."

"But it can hurt _you_ ," says Lisbon. "And that's what I care about right now."

She swears she sees his eyes glisten, but she thinks it must be a trick of the nonexistent light.

"I'm tired of being alone." He looks determinedly up at the ceiling.

Her heart fractures. "You're not alone," she says immediately.

He rolls his eyes. "You know what I mean." Then meets her gaze. She looks away, but it's too late – he's already cold read her. "I'm not interested in a replacement, Lisbon. You should know that."

"I do."

"Then what's the problem?"

She doesn't answer, which for him is answer enough.

"It's not just my guilt," says Jane knowingly. "This is also about yours."

Lisbon nods. "I can't knowingly and in good conscience get involved with you – in any form, in any way. You're still traumatized by the deaths of your family. I'd be taking advantage of that."

"So what do you call tonight?"

"A lapse in judgement."

Jane lets out a sharp breath. "Unbelievable," he mutters.

"Jane, you can't possibly disagree. Us coming together – it's not healthy. For either of us."

"No, Lisbon, actually I _would_ disagree. Because in case you haven't noticed, having a connection with other human beings keeps us sane. And it's not like you can argue with the science – human touch causes our bodies to release hormones that we need to survive."

She frowns at him. "What happened to the loner I adopted onto my team? The con artist who didn't need anyone or anything?"

"You changed him."

"I didn't," she argues. "You're hyped up on adrenaline and endorphins. Once those fade, you'll be able to see clearly." She sighs and softens her tone. "Look, Jane, I'm not saying I regret this. Because I don't. We clearly needed it. But it can't happen again."

He reaches up to thread his fingers through her hair and pull her down to touch his lips against hers. She moans. "You sure about that?" he asks quietly, nearly humming with energy.

He strokes the side of her ribcage, and she is lost.

"One more lapse in judgement," she breathes as his lips find her neck. "And then never again."

* * *

Later, after she is clothed and he's pulled on slacks, she's reaching for the door. He pulls her back to him.

"You were right," Jane says. "But not for the reasons you think."

Lisbon looks up at him, curious.

"Any kind of arrangement between us would be dangerous. But not because of the personal ramifications."

Her brow furrows. A millisecond later, she understands.

"You're worried about Red John."

He nods. "The adrenaline and endorphins _were_ clouding my judgement. I won't let it happen again."

She rocks forward on her toes to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth. "Maybe someday. When he's gone and we're both a little less messed up."

"Maybe," he says, and his tone reveals that he feels as dubious about this possibility as she does. "Nonetheless, it was prudent of you to suggest neutral territory. If we'd gone to my hotel, he would have known for sure."

Lisbon feels as though the air temperature has suddenly dropped five degrees.

Jane must notice her expression because he steps closer. "I won't let him near you," he promises.

She smiles sadly at him. "I know," she says. "You proved that tonight. Thank you, by the way. For saving my life."

He shrugs. "I've lost count of the amount of times you've saved mine."

Lisbon brushes an errant curl from his temple, her fingers lingering for a second too long. "I highly doubt that, what with your memory."

Jane has to smile at this.

"Can you manage to stay out of trouble for a few hours?" she asks.

"Guess we'll see."

She nods and drops her hand, brushing his fingers as she moves her arm back to her side. She turns around. "And I'll see you tomorrow."

She reaches for the door again, but Jane's arms suddenly envelop her from behind, and she feels him bury his head in the crook of her neck. She allows herself to lean against him for a second. Then they pull away from each other.

This time, she opens the door and steps through. As she's shutting it behind her, she hears Jane murmur softly, "Yes. You will."


	2. Chapter 2

**AN: Thank you all for the wonderful response to the first chapter and for being so patient with me and my slow updates. Hope you enjoy the second chapter!**

* * *

He doesn't show up for work the following morning or the morning after that.

But by nightfall on the second day, Lisbon has had enough of waiting around.

* * *

The motel door opens to reveal an unshaven Jane. Judging by his expression, he's clearly unsurprised at finding her on his doorstep.

He doesn't invite her in.

"How did you find me?" he asks instead.

Lisbon shrugs. "I'm a detective." She looks past him. "You ever think of getting a real apartment? Living like this – it can't be healthy for you. You need something permanent."

"Says the woman whose condo is still cluttered with unpacked boxes from when she first moved to Sacramento years ago."

"How did you know –"

Jane grins, and with his stubble and messy hair, it's an unfair combination. "I didn't."

Lisbon folds her arms across her chest and exhales in frustration. "You've been avoiding me."

"Yes."

"Why?"

"You know why."

Lisbon wants to scream. "I wouldn't be having this conversation with you if I could read your mind, Jane. Please, just _talk_ to me."

He holds up a finger, and she stops talking, watching as he heads back into the motel room. He grabs his suit jacket and shrugs it on over his dress shirt and vest before stepping out onto the threshold with her and closing the door behind him.

"Let's go for a walk," he says, one hand gesturing in front of them down the sidewalk past the other rooms, the other hand at the small of her back. Lisbon doesn't move.

"You don't want to let me into your place?" she asks, and she can't help but feel slightly hurt.

Jane shakes his head. "It's not that," he says. His eyes become darker. "You're more to me than a handful of conversations in run-down motel rooms, Lisbon."

Her breath catches, and she holds his gaze for a few seconds.

During their night together, they'd never once turned on a light. As a result, she'd barely been able to make out his face while he moved above her, and she hadn't been able to _really_ look into his eyes.

Though the darkness still surrounds them now, a light above Jane's motel room door allows her to see him for the first time since...since that night. And when she looks at him, it occurs to her that they will never be able to return to the way they were before.

She's scared to admit that maybe, just maybe, she doesn't want them to.

They turn together, beginning to walk side by side down the walkway, and the darkness of the evening sky welcomes them as they move away from the motel. They turn onto the sidewalk adjacent to the nearby street, and Jane finally answers her original question.

"I didn't know how to act around you."

Lisbon glances at him out of the corner of her eye as he continues.

"I mean," Jane amends, "I know you want me to act the same. But what if I can't?"

"What do you mean?" Lisbon asks as they pass underneath a lamppost, and for a fraction of a second Jane's skin becomes washed out by the florescent light before the darkness captures them again. A few blocks over, a car alarm goes off.

Jane can't seem to meet her eyes. "We were lovers, Lisbon," he whispers. "Denying that feels like a lie."

"You once made a living telling lies," Lisbon points out softly.

"And look where that got me." He thrusts his hands in the pockets of his jacket, clearly frustrated. "Look," he says. "I guess what I'm trying to get at is that I just don't know how to proceed. I have no idea how to navigate this situation." He sighs. "I think you and I are similar in that, at least on the outside, it appears as though the rest of the world can't touch us. But that façade is only to hide the fact that we feel everything so much more intensely within." He stops suddenly, whirling around to face her. "And this," he says, gesturing with one hand to the space between them. "Well, the intensity of this…it's _frightening_."

Lisbon looks up at him, taking in the despair and desperation in his eyes.

"Then don't deny it," she says.

"That's okay with you?"

"We do what we have to," she responds.

"And for you, that means denial."

She nods. "It does. Because I have to put it behind me. I can't risk losing focus or not thinking clearly if for some reason your life is on the line."

He begins to walk forward again. "I didn't intend for this to interfere with your work."

Lisbon almost laughs. "You seriously thought there wouldn't be emotional consequences?"

She thinks she sees him smile before he responds. "To be honest, I wasn't capable of much higher level thought that night," Jane says.

She flushes, looking down the deserted street to avoid meeting his eyes. Then she takes a breath, trying to steady herself, and reaches out to grab his elbow. He is brought up short.

"Are we okay?" Lisbon whispers.

It takes him a couple seconds to answer, during which she tries not to panic. Then he finally nods. "Of course," he says. "Just be patient with me, Lisbon. I'm not able to solider on like you do."

By unspoken agreement, they turn around, heading back toward the neon pink VACANCY sign in the parking lot of Jane's motel. Jane is uncharacteristically silent, but Lisbon watches him closely in hopes of getting some sort of read on him. All she takes away is that the occasional brush of his shoulder against hers indicates that he is invading her personal space more so than usual. She wonders if he's even aware of this.

She walks him back to his room, and he opens the door without a key. Lisbon raises an eyebrow. "You don't lock your room?"

"Don't fret, Lisbon – I lock it when I'm inside."

"But not when you leave?"

He gives her a look that breaks her heart. "Lisbon, there's nothing here for anyone to steal," he points out.

"Someone could break in while you're away and be waiting for you to return." She can't help the slightly hysterical shrillness of her words.

He opens his mouth to respond, but the sound of her cell phone has her reaching into her jacket to answer the incoming call.

"Lisbon," she says, glancing away from Jane for a few seconds.

He waits patiently, hesitating half-way in the door, before she hangs up.

"We have a case." She looks up at him, arching an eyebrow again. "You coming or what?"

This time, Jane nods without hesitation. "Yes," he says. "Hold on." And he heads back into the motel room.

When he returns, he's holding the keys to the room, and Lisbon stands to the side as he locks the door. Then she leads him to her car.

"Thank you," she says as she starts the engine. She reaches over to put the car in reverse.

"No need for you to worry about me more than you no doubt already do," Jane says, clearly aiming for his tone to come out lighter than it actually does.

Lisbon's fingers brush against his, illuminated in the green half-light from the dashboard.


	3. Chapter 3

**AN: Thanks for being so patient on this update. As many of you know, things have been crazy in America recently, which is part of the reason why this update took so long.** **A lot happens in this chapter - you've been warned! Also, I don't have a medical degree, so I apologize if there are any errors here.**

* * *

The sky begins to drizzle as Jane and Lisbon drive through the night, and the raindrops on the windshield blur the bright lights of the city. Twenty minutes later, they arrive at a darkened alley somewhere in downtown Sacramento. Lisbon pulls her jacket more tightly around her, and she sees Jane shiver out of the corner of her eye. Cho waves them over.

Lisbon takes a deep breath of cold air.

* * *

Three hours later, Jane is still shivering, and Lisbon turns the heat on full blast when they climb into her car. "You okay?" she asks him, setting course for his motel.

He shrugs. "This one was bad."

She stops at a light and turns to look at him. She can just make out his profile in the red glare from the traffic light.

"Mafia hits always are."

"Doesn't make it any easier."

"I know."

She can tell when the red light turns green by the reflection in his eyes, and she turns her attention back to the road, pressing down on the gas. She sighs. They'd spent the last few hours canvassing the entire neighborhood as the CSIs had documented the scene and collected evidence. She doesn't think much will come of it. But she doesn't tell Jane this.

"We'll find who did this," she says instead. A pair of headlights behind them light up her car.

Jane looks over at her. "I know."

* * *

The next day dawns hot and humid, a drastic change from the chill of the night before. When Lisbon arrives at the CBI, the bullpen is empty. Her office, however, is not – she catches of glimpse of Jane's unruly curls through the partially closed blinds. She opens the door quietly so as not to disturb him, but his eyes flash open nonetheless.

"Please don't tell me you slept here," Lisbon says.

"I did not sleep here," Jane says, his voice monotone.

Lisbon sighs. "Meaning you didn't sleep at all."

"Getting warmer."

She walks over to stand next to him. "When was the last time you slept through the night?" Their eyes meet, and suddenly she knows the answer without him needing to say a word. She blushes then looks away, but not before she sees the ghost of a smile tug at his lips.

* * *

They don't make any progress on the case that day, and Lisbon heads home as darkness falls, dejected and in desperate need of several, uninterrupted hours of sleep.

She doesn't get them.

Her phone lights up at 12:34 AM, ringing shrilly, and Lisbon reaches for it blindly.

"Lisbon," she mutters, half-asleep.

"Teresa Lisbon?" asks an unfamiliar voice. "We have you listed as the next of kin for Patrick Jane." Lisbon's eyes flash open. Her stomach drops. "He's being prepped for surgery at Mercy General."

Lisbon throws back the bedspread and reaches for her keys. "What happened?"

"EMTs picked him up just outside a motel on the south side of the city. He's been shot twice in the chest, near his right shoulder."

"I'm on my way."

* * *

Cho, Van Pelt, and Rigsby arrive at Mercy General roughly five minutes after Lisbon does. Van Pelt immediately gives her a warm hug. "Any news?"

Lisbon shakes her head. "Nothing. I don't know any more than I told you on the phone."

"He's going to be fine, Boss. I'm sure of it," Rigsby says.

Cho's expression is more impassive than usual, but he makes no remark. He nods tightly.

They settle in to ride out the storm.

* * *

After what feels like days but is really only several hours, the doors to the waiting area open, and an official-looking, petite young woman in scrubs walks out. She looks tired but pleased, and she gives Lisbon a small smile. "You're Mrs. Jane?"

"I'm his next of kin," says Lisbon, still wrapping her mind around the words. She'd had no idea before being called the night before, and she wonders when exactly Jane had made it legal. She supposes he'd expect her to give the money in his offshore accounts to various charities that he would have approved of in the case he died before he took care of Red John.

"Patrick is out of surgery," says the doctor. "Everything went as we'd hoped, and no organs seem to have been hit. Unfortunately, the damage to his right shoulder is severe due to the placement of the gunshots. There are multiple fractures, and some nerves were damaged."

Lisbon blinks. "What does that mean for him?"

"In the past when I've seen injuries like his, the patient is usually able to move their arm, but they have very little ability to manipulate fingers or make precise movements. We'll need to run more tests to get a better prognosis." She takes a step toward Lisbon. "Nurse Kuenkel will take you to him," she says, gesturing to another young woman in scrubs. "He'll be out for a while, though."

Lisbon nods and looks back at her team.

"Go ahead, Boss," says Van Pelt.

"Stay with him," says Cho. "We'll hold down the fort at the CBI."

Lisbon breathes in and moves forward.

* * *

She is not sure how much time passes as she sits beside him, counting his breaths, thankful that each one is not his last. At one point, Jane shivers in his sleep, and she jumps up to grab another blanket from the closet near the entrance to the room. Lisbon tucks it around him, carefully avoiding his right shoulder, and then she sits down again, resuming her vigil.

* * *

Her eyes are beginning to feel heavy, but Lisbon is loath to surrender to sleep, and so she begins to sing softly under her breath. The words are strangely familiar to her despite the years it's been since she sung them to her brothers. She's just finished the first song when Jane's breathing changes, and Lisbon quiets immediately, going completely still.

"Don't stop," says Jane, his voice hoarse.

Lisbon leans toward him tentatively. "You don't want to hear me sing, trust me."

"I want to hear your voice," he responds. "Talk to me, please."

And his eyes finally open.

"Hey," says Lisbon.

"Hi," Jane croaks. He takes one look at her face and grimaces. "It's not good, is it?"

Lisbon grabs his right hand tentatively and rubs her thumb against it. "You're alive."

"Lisbon." It's clear from his tone that he wants her to be honest.

She sighs. "Two gunshot wounds to your shoulder. There's a possibility the nerve damage may be permanent."

Jane glances down at their intertwined fingers. "Ah," he says. "I guess that explains why I can't feel that, then."

"What?"

"Your hand," he says. "I can't feel it in mine."

Lisbon feels faint. "You can't?"

"Nothing. I feel nothing."

"Can you move your fingers?"

There's a few seconds of silence before their eyes meet again. Jane's hand remains motionless.

" _Jane_."

"Don't worry, Lisbon – I have a spare." Jane reaches over with his left hand to caress Lisbon's face. The sharp movement makes him wince again, and Lisbon reaches up to touch her hand to his.

"This is my fault," she whispers. "I'm –"

He cuts her off. "How the hell could this be your fault?"

"I think there was someone following us the night I stopped by your motel room and we went to the crime scene. Someone followed us back from the scene, and I should have noticed before. But I was…I had too many other things on my mind, and –"

"Lisbon – _hush_."

But she can't. "There were headlights. And they followed us back to your place – so they knew where you lived. And they knew you weren't carrying a gun. You're not a cop. So you were the easiest target."

"Lisbon, even if that's true, I didn't notice them. So we're both to blame."

"I'm the team leader. I'm supposed to _protect_ you. And I placed you in danger."

"Lisbon, please stop fretting – it's making me anxious. A nurse is going to come in here and scold you for increasing my heart rate."

She looks up at the monitor and pulls herself together. As she calms down, she continues watching the screen and sees Jane's heart rate return to normal.

"Thank you," he says, leaning his head back against the pillows.

"How do you feel?" asks Lisbon. "Can I get you anything?"

"I'm fine," he says, though she doubts this. "Whatever painkillers I'm on are fantastic."

"Do you need anything?" Lisbon repeats.

Jane squeezes her hand with his good fingers. "Just this," he says, closing his eyes. "Just this."


	4. Chapter 4

**AN: Thanks for your continued support of this story. Hope you enjoy this latest installment.**

 **Happy Thanksgiving to those of you celebrating today!**

* * *

Cho, Rigsby, and Van Pelt each stop by individually to see Jane throughout the course of the next day. Though Jane smiles broadly at each of them, he tires quickly, and no member of the team stays longer than fifteen minutes.

An older nurse, who Lisbon thinks must be in her sixties, knocks on the door to Jane's room a few minutes after Van Pelt departs that evening. "Time for your medication, dear," she says to Jane, stepping to the side of his bed. He reaches for the pills and dry swallows them, waving away the jug of water Lisbon offers to him. But she is insistent, and he eventually relents and takes a few sips of water.

"Thanks, Norma," says Jane after Lisbon sets the jug down. "You about ready to head home for the night?"

Norma smiles. "Almost. I'll tell my replacement on night shift to keep an eye on you. Your friend Teresa says you can be…difficult."

Jane glances at Lisbon. "You wound me, Lisbon. When am I difficult?"

The corner of Lisbon's mouth twitches upward. "When are you _not_?"

Jane chuckles at this, albeit quietly, and it occurs to Lisbon that laughing is painful for him.

Norma seems to be thinking along the same lines. "Careful there, Patrick. Don't want to tear those stitches."

"No," Jane agrees. "I've had quite enough of being poked and prodded over the past several hours, thank you."

The nurse pats his hand, making sure to avoid the IV. "I thought I'd warn you," she says. "The menu for the cafeteria tonight is chicken and dumplings." Her voice drops to a whisper. "That meal tends to be…less than edible."

Lisbon stands up, grabbing her purse. "I'm on it."

Jane grins. "Thanks for the tip, Norma."

"You didn't hear it from me," says Norma. "Have a good night, Patrick. You as well, Teresa. You planning on staying here?"

Lisbon nods.

"I'll bring in some extra pillows and blankets for the recliner before I leave," says Norma.

And she slips away noiselessly.

Lisbon brushes her hand against Jane's knee. "I'll be back in twenty," she says. "There's a diner just down the street."

Jane gives her a look of gratitude before closing his eyes. "I think I'm in love," he says.

Lisbon freezes, halfway toward the door, wondering how much of what he's just said is a result of pain medication. She glances back at Jane and sees that he's wearing a mischievous smile.

She rolls her eyes.

* * *

They are about halfway through their dinner – eggs for him, a burger for her – when there's another rap on the door. Lisbon looks up to lock eyes with Minelli.

"Sir," she says, standing up.

Minelli nods at her but focuses his attention on Jane. "How's the shoulder?"

Jane grimaces. "Feels as though it's in ten pieces."

"Because it is," says Lisbon under her breath.

Minelli steps to Jane's bedside. "I want to assure you that we will do everything in our power to ensure your safety looking forward," he says. "I've already got funding approved for a protective detail for you the moment you're released –"

"No," says Lisbon firmly.

Both Minelli and Jane look at her, surprised.

"A one-officer protective detail is not going to dissuade the people who did this to Jane," says Lisbon, her voice sharp. "Especially considering those officers are often fresh out of the academy. And there's no way in hell I'm sending Jane back to that motel – that's…that's madness. It's just not safe."

"You have a better idea, I assume?" Minelli folds his hands in front of himself, waiting.

Lisbon leans against the side of Jane's bed. "I do," she says. " _I'll_ be Jane's protective detail."

Minelli sighs. "Lisbon, we need you on this case. You can't do that if you're watching over Jane 24/7."

"Members of my team have to be my first priority. I am responsible for their safety. I've already failed Jane once; I will not do so again."

"Lisbon," starts Jane, his voice rough. "I don't want you off the case – you'll be miserable. Truly, that's not necessary –"

"Your safety is necessary," argues Lisbon. She holds Minelli's gaze. "I want to minimize the danger that I have put Jane in, even though I've done so inadvertently. I'm requesting that you give the case to another team."

" _Lisbon_ ," Jane says.

" _Hush, Jane_ ," says Lisbon, glancing at him. "Listen, if we're not on the case, whoever's responsible for the murder has no motive to go after you." She turns back to Minelli. "Let another team investigate – preferably, one that consists entirely of cops who have been trained to protect themselves. Jane doesn't carry a gun, and that makes him particularly vulnerable."

Minelli crosses his arms across his chest, considering her. "You've never willingly given up a case before, Lisbon."

"My team is my priority," Lisbon repeats.

Her boss just stares at her.

"Please, sir," says Lisbon. "I'm asking as a personal favor."

Minelli immediately relents at this. "Very well," he says. "I'll reassign the case." He smooths a hand over his tie and looks over at Lisbon, his eyes weary. "Why don't you make a dent in some of those personal days you've been saving up? If I recall correctly, you haven't used any since you started."

Lisbon nods, her throat tight. "Thank you, sir."

"Get Jane back on his feet, Lisbon," says Minelli. "The CBI needs you both." He nods at Jane. "There's no one I'd trust with my life more than Lisbon. You'll be safe with her."

Jane's expression is unreadable as he answers. "I know."

Minelli wishes Jane a speedy recovery, and then he's gone.

Jane turns to Lisbon, exasperated. "You don't need to give up the case for me."

She looks at him, his expression mirroring his. "Yes, I do."

He drops his voice. "I thought we were trying to act normal. As though what happened didn't actually happen. I thought that was the only way you could keep a clear head. And you giving up a case to keep me safe is decidedly _not_ normal."

Lisbon shrugs helplessly and sits down on the side of his bed. "Jane, the truth is I've never been able to keep a clear head around you. Sleeping with you didn't change that." She reaches for his good hand. "Look, I'm never going to be able to be impartial when it comes to you. But I don't have to be impartial to know that this is the best way to keep you safe. And I couldn't live with myself if something happened to you – especially if it was because of something I did. Or didn't do, as would be the case here."

She can't look him in the eye as she talks. But after she's done, her green gaze finds his, and she's floored to see him blink quickly to dispel the excess moisture that has pooled in his eyes.

"I don't deserve you," Jane whispers.

Her heart twists. "I almost got you killed," she points out, matching his tone.

"It wasn't your fault," he argues. "You _have_ to know that."

Lisbon doesn't know how to respond. So she says nothing. Instead, she reaches over to take Jane's right hand. She lifts it gingerly, careful not to jostle his injured shoulder, and touches her lips to his unfeeling palm. He watches her with wide eyes.

"Teresa," he breathes, imploring.

She closes her eyes and shifts his hand so that his palm is against her cheek.

The quiet consumes them.


	5. Chapter 5

**AN: Thanks for the response to last chapter, and thanks for your comments on "Past, Present, and Future". I'm glad the fandom is still going strong. Hope you enjoy this latest installment.**

* * *

"I'm not an invalid, Lisbon. I can walk to the car."

"Jane, so help me God, if you don't sit in the damn wheelchair I will shoot you in your other shoulder."

Silence echoes in Jane's hospital room as he and Lisbon stare at each other, unyielding. Norma the nurse, looking slightly amused, watches the two wordlessly communicate regarding Jane's release from the hospital. After about thirty seconds of this, Norma intervenes.

"Patrick, dear, please listen to Teresa. She's exactly the type of medication you need right now."

Lisbon feels her face flame. Jane, of course, begins to smile widely at Lisbon's embarrassment, and he chuckles, giving in. "Very well, Norma. I'll put myself completely in Teresa's very capable hands."

And Norma helps him lower himself into the wheelchair.

She turns to Lisbon. "If you want to get your car and pull it up to the entrance of the hospital, we'll meet you there."

Lisbon nods, grabs Jane's bag of possessions from the floor, and walks to the door. As she steps into the hall, she hears Norma unlock the wheels of the wheelchair and begin to push Jane forward. "I can tell you adore that woman, Patrick," Norma says in an exaggerated whisper. "Don't you dare push her away with your stubbornness."

Lisbon speeds up, uncomfortable, and Jane's answer is lost amongst the sounds of the bustling nurse's station across the hall.

* * *

"Nice place," says Jane as Lisbon lets him into her condo. He looks around, taking in the organized yet impersonal feel of his partner's home. "I wouldn't have pegged you as the type to hang wall decorations, though."

Lisbon locks the door behind them then leads Jane over to the couch. "They were here when I moved in," she admits, dropping his bag and reaching out to steady him as he sits down. To her surprise, he accepts her help, grabbing onto her arm with his good hand.

She sits next to him, and he doesn't drop his hand. Rather, he shifts it so that he can feel her pulse. He gives her a confused look. "Are you okay, Lisbon? Your pulse just skyrocketed."

Lisbon doesn't even consider lying.

"Since you woke up in the hospital, I've been thinking a lot about your safety."

Jane's brow is still furrowed. "You already gave away the case, Lisbon. Surely there's not anything else you can do."

"No," she says. "But there's something _you_ can."

"And that is?"

"Hypnotize me."

Jane gives a disbelieving chuckle. "You're kidding me."

"I saw the car that was following us that night, Jane. It's in my memory somewhere even if I can't access it right now. If you could shake the memory loose, I could get the license plate, or even the make and model, and we could figure out who did this to you and put them away."

Jane just stares at her. "You're asking me to hypnotize you." Lisbon can't remember a time when he appeared so flabbergasted.

"Yes."

Jane's tone is incredulous. "What type of medication did they put me on? Surely I must be hallucinating this."

"Jane, be serious. Please."

"I am being serious! You are the most intensely private person I have _ever_ met. Do I have to remind you how ridiculously out of character it is for you to ask me to rifle through your innermost thoughts?" He trails off after this, though, as another thought occurs to him. "Never mind," he says thirty seconds later. "This is actually consistent with your MO. You're willing to allow yourself to be hypnotized – something you see as an invasion of privacy – because it may make me safer."

Lisbon says nothing.

Jane considers her for a few more seconds.

"No," he finally says.

She cuts him off before he can continue. "Jane, please. I need to know I've done everything in my power to protect my team."

"You've already done more than enough."

"And yet, here we are – you with a paralyzed arm." She gestures to the arm in question.

"Lisbon, in normal circumstances you would never, in a million years, ask for this."

"These are hardly normal circumstances."

"Would you have asked if we hadn't slept together?"

She hesitates, unsure. But Jane reads her anyway.

"Possibly," he translates from her body language. His eyes rove over her face. He amends his statement. "Probably – no, most definitely. Of course you would have." He sighs. "But my answer remains the same. I'm not going to hypnotize you – because you're in no state to go under. You're too worked up." His eyes glance to her wrist, where his fingers are still taking her pulse.

"Bullshit," says Lisbon. "You're a master hypnotist. You've taken people under with far higher thresholds than me. Even if I am worked up, you'd know how to get around that."

They stare at each other again, a continuation of their non-conversation from the hospital room. As before, Jane finally relents. He sighs again. "Fine. You're right – I _do_ know how to get around that."

"How?" she asks.

"You're not going to like it."

"Jane."

There's a darkness in his eyes that she associates with the Red John case. Lisbon shivers.

"Do you trust me, Lisbon?"

"Didn't the damn trust fall tell you anything?"

Jane smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes, and he shifts closer to her. "Then _trust_ me," he says, and he shifts his good arm from her wrist to brush against her jaw. His fingers tangle in her hair at the nape of her neck, and he guides her toward him. Lisbon watches, unable to move, as the distance between them disappears, and her eyes close when his lips are a millimeter from her own.

" _You're safe, Lisbon_ ," he whispers, and then he kisses her.

It is nothing like the first time they kissed. That night had been intense, two lost souls finding each other in the dark. Now, all Lisbon can feel is warmth – a soft warmth wrapping around her, emanating from Jane, and she feels her defenses fall without choosing to let them.

" _I promise, Lisbon – you're safe_ ," Jane murmurs again against her skin.

Her last thought before she is pulled under is that she believes him.


	6. Chapter 6

**AN: PLEASE READ!**

 **Hi everyone! As you'll notice, this story is going through some changes. Several months ago, I thought I finished it, but I decided I didn't like the original ending. I have since deleted the original chapter 6 and 7. Chapters 1-5 remain the same. This is the new version of chapter 6. It might help to reread the first five chapters before reading this one since it's been a while since I posted them.**

* * *

Her vision is unfocused as she stares into the sunset out her kitchen window, mindlessly scrubbing a nonexistent spot on a plate in the warm, soapy water. The orange and pink from the sky streams into the room, and Lisbon watches the sun sink lower.

Even with Jane's prowess at hypnosis, she hadn't been able to recall the plate on the car that had been behind them. Lisbon sighs. The whole thing had been pretty speculative anyway, she admits to herself. The car had been far away, so it wasn't unreasonable to assume she simply hadn't seen the plate. And even if she _had_ seen it, the car may not have been following them at all.

She raises the plate out of the water to rinse it.

She's suddenly aware that the sky has changed color, and she freezes, plate held in front of her, water dripping from her hands.

The clouds have transformed – they're red now, as though they might release blood instead of rain. Lisbon tries to forget the image of Jane's ruined shirt, soaked with his blood, that one of the nurses had returned to her after he'd been stabilized.

Lisbon is used to blood. Just not Jane's. God, she is lucky he'd lived.

Her eyes narrow, and she loses grip on the soapy plate, which slips through her fingers. It falls to the floor.

" _Shit_ ," she whispers just before it shatters.

She hears a groggy groan from the living room. "Lisbon? You okay?"

She doesn't answer, and a few seconds later Jane appears at the entrance to the kitchen, his right arm hanging awkwardly at his side without his sling. "Teresa?"

Lisbon glances over at him, and she knows her eyes must look wild. "What if it wasn't the mafia?" she whispers.

Jane blinks at her. "What do you mean?" He steps forward, and the red from the sky reflects in his eyes.

She doesn't move for fear of stepping on shards. "The mafia doesn't miss."

It only takes him a fraction of a second to understand her meaning. "If the mafia actually wanted me dead, I'd be dead," he deduces. Lisbon nods, and Jane continues. "Well, this is…reassuring, I guess. Whoever shot me was aiming for my shoulder. They sought to injure, not kill."

"I think it was Red John."

Jane cradles his right arm in his left hand, and Lisbon knows the pain must be bothering him again. Jane raises an eyebrow. "It's not really his style," he points out.

Lisbon shakes her head. "I disagree," she says. "Jane, you took his right hand man. He took your right hand. He would say it's a fair trade."

He's silent for a minute before he nods, conceding her point. "Hardly fair," he spits out, and Lisbon is taken aback. Jane is rarely bitter. "He can regrow his right hand. The damage to mine is permanent."

Lisbon opens her mouth to reply and shifts to move toward him, but Jane raises his good hand. "Don't move," he says, wincing as his right arm falls to his side. "You're still surrounded by shards. Hold on." He disappears for a few seconds before returning with his shoes on and Lisbon's shoes in his left hand. "Here," he says, stepping onto the debris, and it crunches under his feet. He hands her the shoes, and she slips them on. They move together, gingerly, away from the mess. Lisbon helps him toe off his shoes once they have reached the living room.

"I'll be right back," she says, and she grabs a broom and dustpan to clean up the fragments. For good measure, she also vacuums the floor, knowing that she normally wouldn't bother if it were just her in the condo. But she doesn't take the chance with Jane.

She returns to the living room to find him lying prone on the couch, cradling his arm again, and she settles on the floor near him. "I can't give you another dose of medication for another hour," Lisbon says apologetically.

"I'm okay," says Jane.

She shoots him a look.

"Truly," he says. "I've felt worse."

Lisbon sighs and leans on the couch, propping her arm up on the seat cushion. "Do you think that's it, then? He's not going to come after you again?"

Jane searches her face, but she's not sure for what. "He's done," he confirms. "At least for now. He wants me alive. Because the game is finished if I die, and where's the fun in that?"

On instinct, Lisbon reaches for his right hand, but she shifts at the last second to grab his left, wanting him to be able to feel her. She rubs her thumb against his palm.

They don't speak for a few minutes. Lisbon finds herself counting his breaths again.

"We don't know if the damage to your arm is permanent, Jane," she says, finally saying what she had meant to in the kitchen. "The doctors are hopeful."

"The doctors are lying."

"Why would they do that?"

"Because they think hope can heal."

"Can't it?"

"Not in my experience," Jane says, his words almost vitriolic. "I used to give people false hope for a living – I know what it looks like when someone tries to do the same to me."

Lisbon squeezes his hand. "I'm sorry."

Jane's expression softens. "Don't apologize. I'm the one who's being a bastard."

She moves her hand to lie on his chest. "Things will be okay, Jane, whether you get use of your arm back or not. The team is here for you – _I'm_ here for you."

He ignores this. "You've got to take me back to my motel tomorrow."

" _Excuse me?_ "

"I don't need a protective detail since we know the mafia wasn't responsible for shooting me. And the longer I stay with you, the more likely it is that Red John will figure out…" He takes a deep breath. "It's more likely he will figure out what you are to me. Lisbon, if he'd known, he'd have taken you instead of my right hand – because losing you would have hurt infinitely worse."

Lisbon's breath hitches. "You're…you're not planning on coming back to work, are you?"

Jane takes too long to answer. "We…we need to put some distance between us," he confirms.

"How long?"

"As long as it takes."

"There never really was a chance for us, was there?"

Jane looks distraught. "I'm not saying that. We both just have too many demons right now, and Red John is one of them." He reaches up to brush a finger along her jaw. "I'm not leaving you, Lisbon. If you need me, you can call. I'll break every speed limit between us to get to you." He attempts a smile. "But, then, you're perfectly capable of protecting yourself. I'm not sure you'd need me at all."

"I need you to stay safe," Lisbon says.

"Oh, you know me, Lisbon – I like a quiet life," he says far too innocently.

She can't help but throw her head back and laugh. He smiles for real upon seeing her grin, and she is overwhelmed. She takes in his eyes, his mouth, his jaw, his hands – she takes _him_ in, and she realizes it is herself who never had a chance.

"Come to bed with me," she whispers.

"What happened to the woman who said sleeping with me was a mistake?"

"I'm still worried that it might be," Lisbon admits, her hand trembling slightly on his chest. "But I'm more worried about losing the last night I may have with you in a very long time." She leans over him to rest her lips against his. "Come tomorrow, I'll be stronger," she whispers.

He nods and kisses her, reaching up to tangle his hand in her hair. A few seconds later, she pulls away only to reach for him. He stands, somewhat unsteadily, and allows her to lead him up the stairs.


	7. Chapter 7

**AN: For those of you who missed chapter 6 when I published it a month or so ago, be aware that this story is going through rewrites, so chapters 6 and (now) 7 look very different compared to their original versions from last year. You might want to go back and reread the story from the beginning to refresh on certain bits. Thanks for your patience!**

* * *

Every move carries meaning; every move is slow, reverent, intense. She is more careful with him this time than she had been their first night together, acutely aware of his injury and the pain his is likely to be in. But he doesn't seem to mind.

After, he tucks her against his good side, and she curls into him. "We need to get our stories straight," she says softly, "regarding why you're leaving."

Jane absentmindedly traces patterns on her shoulder. "Hmmm," he murmurs. "That's easy enough. If Minelli finds out it was Red John who shot me, he'll reassign the case. I could tell he was already thinking of doing so."

Lisbon turns her head to meet his gaze. "Really?" she asks. "How do you know?"

"Honest cops make terrible liars, Lisbon. You should know that, since you're one of them. At any rate, he's as easy to read as you are."

He is silent while she thinks this over, and she reaches her arm over to rest her palm on his injured shoulder. His breath hitches.

"So you're saying that we should let him reassign the case," Lisbon says eventually.

"Sure." If he could have shrugged, Lisbon knows he would have. "It's not like we'll stop going after Red John just because we're not officially on the case. Plus, this could explain why we part ways. The entire CBI thinks I'm loyal to you because you're a means to an end, so my leaving wouldn't be a surprise if the case were given to someone else."

Lisbon closes her eyes at these words, wishing she didn't feel their bitter sting. Jane seems to notice because suddenly his lips cover her own.

"You're not, you know," he says, his lips still touching hers. "A means to an end, that is. We're a team. We're partners. We make each other better. And that's why we'll get him someday. We're stronger together than he is alone."

Lisbon sighs against him. "Which is why I'm not sure that splitting up is a good idea. Don't you think this is what he wants? To separate us?"

"We'll still be a team, Lisbon, but we'll appear as though we're not. There's a difference." He kisses her again. "His crosshairs are getting dangerously close to locking in on you, and I need to get him focused elsewhere. Distance will help."

"I'm not sure it will."

"When have I ever led you astray?"

Lisbon can't help but laugh.

"When have you _not_?"

* * *

They spend most of the rest of the night awake. Jane is in pain, and Lisbon almost regrets inviting him into her bed every time she sees him wince. But when he kisses her again, she can't regret a thing.

They agree that it's best he accompany her to work in the morning, the better for him to make a dramatic exit once they receive official news that the Red John case has been taken from them.

"But not overly dramatic," warns Lisbon. "We need this to be believable, remember, and you tend to err on the side of…extravagance."

"Meh," says Jane. "Makes life more interesting."

Lisbon smiles. "That's one way to put it."

Her alarm blares several minutes later, and, reluctant to lose him, Lisbon pulls Jane slightly closer. Then she steels herself and relinquishes her grip on his hand.

* * *

They inform Minelli of their suspicions regarding Jane's shooter at 8:30. At 9:13, Minelli finds both Jane and Lisbon in her office and tells them that the case has already been reassigned.

Lisbon is surprised at the intensity of her reaction to the news, considering she and Jane had known the case would be taken away. But she can't stop her muscles from tensing, can't stop her fists from clenching slightly.

"Assigned to whom?" she says, fighting to keep her voice even. A glance at Jane, who's sitting on her couch, tells her she hasn't succeeded.

Minelli looks apologetic. "Lisbon, I know it's not ideal, but there's not much I can do, unfortunately. I did try to give the case to someone you'd approve of."

"Who has the case?" asks Lisbon again, this time more sharply.

There's a knock on her door, and Minelli, Lisbon, and Jane all turn toward the sound.

"Sam?" says Lisbon, her brow furrowing, as she takes in the man in the doorway. He hasn't changed much since they'd last seen each other – he's still an immense presence, both physically and in the way he commands the room without a word.

"Hey, Teresa," says Bosco. "It's good to see you." He ignores Jane.

Lisbon doesn't, however. She glances at him again and knows immediately that he's cold-reading her former partner. Lisbon sighs, waiting for the moment when Jane realizes the extent of what went on between her and Bosco while they were with SFPD.

She doesn't have to wait long. Jane frowns slightly a few seconds later.

Lisbon forces herself to focus back on Bosco. "So you have the Red John case now?" she asks.

Bosco nods, folding his arms over his chest, drawing attention to the shoulder holsters strapped to each arm. "I was hoping you could fill me in on any progress you've made so me and my team can hit the ground running."

Lisbon nods, feeling a little lost. Handing the case over to Bosco seems…wrong, somehow. She knows he'll do as well as she herself would, but telling herself this doesn't lessen her unease.

"I'll leave you to it, then," says Minelli, ducking behind Bosco on his way out the door.

Before Lisbon has time to say anything, Jane has followed suit. "As will I," he says, already halfway out of her office.

"Excuse me," says Lisbon quickly, leaving Bosco behind and racing after Jane.

She catches him near the elevators, and he turns his head toward her as he waits for the doors to open. "So," he says, and she knows this is it. He'll be gone after this.

"So you're leaving? Just like that?" It's an act, but it doesn't feel like it.

"Just like that," he says. His left hand reaches out to brush against her fingers, and Lisbon is hyperaware of Bosco watching them through the windows of her office. "If the CBI won't let me search for Red John, there's not much sense in staying, is there? I can do more on my own."

Lisbon nods, not exactly sure how to respond. "Right," she says. "Um, good luck, then."

"Good luck, Teresa," Jane says, and then he's gone.


	8. Chapter 8

**AN: Two updates in one week? Crazy. Make sure to read chapter 7 if you haven't yet seen it. Some people weren't getting notifications about updates this week for whatever reason.**

 **I have a definite ending in mind for this story, though I have no idea how long it will take us to get there. So for now, enjoy the ride!**

* * *

Lisbon breathes out heavily, taking a second to compose herself. No acting involved there, she thinks, somewhat amused. Then she sets her shoulders and turns to head toward her office. Her boots seem to echo in the hallway more loudly with the absence of Jane's usual accompanying footsteps.

Bosco is waiting for her, as she'd expected. "Sorry about that," says Lisbon brusquely, and she gestures for Bosco to pull up a chair as she moves behind her desk. He doesn't move, however, still standing in the middle of her office with his arms across his chest, and Lisbon doesn't want to give him the literal higher ground, so she remains standing as well.

He steps forward, shifting his arms to put his hands in his pockets. "Good riddance," he says roughly, his eyes flickering to the elevator down the hall.

"Excuse me?" says Lisbon. It comes out more sharply than she'd intended, and Bosco notices.

"Oh, come on, Teresa. You can't seriously believe that your team won't benefit from Jane's departure. He's a charlatan, not a cop."

Her eyes narrow, and she's immediately defensive. "He's certainly not a cop, but he closes cases."

Bosco gives her a patronizing look. "You sure that's all he is?"

"My close rate at the CBI is 150% of what it was at SFPD. I'm under no delusions that Jane is partially to thank." Lisbon knows this will sting Bosco a bit, but she can't think of another way to shut him up. Arrogance has always been his fatal flaw, and very rarely does anyone call him on it.

Her words have the opposite effect of what she'd intended. Bosco takes another step forward, now standing directly in front of Lisbon's desk. "Things sure are different for you here at the CBI," he agrees, nodding, the patronizing look still on his face.

For a second, she seriously debates shaking him but dismisses this thought immediately. It's not the kind of approach that will get through to someone like Bosco. Lisbon decides not to answer, but she holds his gaze.

Bosco places his hands on the edge of her desk roughly, leaning forward. "You had higher standards with SFPD."

"Meaning?"

Bosco's glare is dark. "You didn't sleep with married men."

Lisbon blinks, stunned. She knows this comment is meant to hint at a few things – first, that she is currently sleeping with Jane, and, second, that she refused to sleep with Bosco back in San Francisco.

But putting aside the obvious cruelness and vulgarity, the comment still concerns her. How could Bosco know of her relationship with Jane after observing them together for less than five minutes?

Perhaps Jane had been right to worry about Red John discovering how he felt about her.

Lisbon takes in Bosco's face, wondering what Jane would read there.

 _Mid-fifties, aggressively heterosexual, unhappy marriage_.

Lisbon knows that Bosco's marriage troubles had started a year or so after she'd become his partner in San Francisco. She also knows the marriage issues were largely a result of her presence in his life. He'd shown interest; she'd declined. And somehow, Bosco's wife had found out. He had been unsurprised to be confronted with divorce papers a week later.

Soon after news of the impending divorce broke, Lisbon had applied for a job at the CBI, knowing she had to remove herself from the situation. A month after she'd moved to Sacramento, she'd heard through the grapevine that Bosco and his wife had patched things up.

It hadn't been difficult to work out why.

Lisbon knows all too well that Bosco had had feelings for her. And judging by his reaction to seeing her with Jane, he'd never gotten over them.

Lisbon is suddenly angry. "I really don't see how who I sleep with – or who I don't – is any of your business," she tells him, simultaneously calm but furious as she leans forward across the desk. "You have no right or claim to any part of my life, Sam. So get out of my office, and go screw yourself."

Bosco stares her down for a beat, and then another. Lisbon begins to worry that he won't back down.

Finally, he steps back, turning for the door without a word.

As soon as he's gone, Lisbon shuts the door and closes the blinds. Then she leans against the wall, breathing deeply.

She's had to deal with her fair share of obnoxious male colleagues making snide remarks about her competency as a cop during her years in law enforcement. She'd just never thought Bosco would turn out to be one of them.

Her fingers itch to punch Jane's number into her phone, but he's only been gone for a handful of minutes. What would he say if she called him for help already?

 _Gee, Lisbon, I'd expected you to last at least a day without me._

Lisbon shakes her head. It's not even as though she wants his _help_ per se, she thinks. She can take care of Bosco herself. Rather, she'd rather be _held_ by Jane. She thinks back to their first night together.

 _All I'm trying to say is that there are going to be days when we both need a human connection. Tonight, you needed to be held, and I needed to feel you, alive, against me. I'm offering you two arms to hold you, a warm bed when you need it._

And suddenly she's furious again – but this time it's at herself for not taking Jane up on his offer.

How much did she miss out on? How much time did she waste? How much of that time will she never get back?

Too much, Lisbon realizes. Altogether too much.

She knows her heart, knows she's not quite in love with him. But because she knows her heart, she knows the possibility is there. She knows she _could_ love him, and she has a feeling he already loves her.

Lisbon crosses her office and sits down on her couch, sitting in the spot Jane had vacated several minutes previously. She leans forward, her elbows resting on her thighs, and puts her head in her hands. Bosco had been right, at least about one thing.

Jane closes cases, but he is far more to Lisbon than that.


	9. Chapter 9

**AN: I really enjoyed writing the dialogue in this chapter, maybe because it's quite a bit different from anything I've written so far. At any rate, I hope you all enjoy it as well (and for those wondering, you'll get some Jane and Lisbon scenes soon).**

* * *

After stepping off the elevator at the ground floor, Jane doubles back around and up the stairs, finally beginning to think clearly once more. He'd been momentarily thrown off-kilter by the appearance of Lisbon's former partner, true, but he's already worked out how to regain his balance.

Jane clears the landing and heads down the unfamiliar corridor, checking the nametags on office doors. He finally finds the one he's looking for.

"Looking for someone?"

He turns to find himself face to face with a shorter woman, her brown hair styled in a pixie cut. He reads her quickly, noticing that there's something wrong about the way the corners of her mouth turn up when she smiles. Her expression reminds him of poisoned honey, though Jane admits that working for Bosco probably would have had a similar effect on almost anyone.

Jane sends her his best charm smile. "Ah, yes," he says, trying to look adorably flustered. "I was hoping to speak to Agent Bosco, but now must not be a good time."

"He's in a meeting," says the woman. "But he should be back shortly. Would you like to wait in his office?"

"You sure he wouldn't mind?" Jane says, with the air of not wanting to impose.

"It's no problem. Just take a seat."

"Excellent," says Jane, smiling again, and he pushes open the door. "Thank you, ah…"

"Rebecca," supplies the woman, returning his smile. It's still sickly sweet, he notes.

"Thank you, _Rebecca_ ," says Jane, stepping inside and letting the door fall shut behind him.

He moves around the office, letting his eyes and mind wander. Exactly what kind of relationship had Lisbon had with Bosco? Jane is fairly positive it was never sexual, though he's judging this based on gut feeling more than anything else. Bosco clearly has been married for many years, probably was married when he worked with Lisbon. And in no universe can Jane ever imagine Lisbon having any sort of relationship with a married man.

But just because a physical relationship hadn't existed didn't mean something else hadn't gone on between them.

Something sparks in him, and Jane is given pause. The spark fans out, licking at his skin, burning through his being, and Jane finally comes to the conclusion that he's feeling jealous.

And he hates it.

He's perusing Bosco's scant collection of books as the man himself pushes open the door a minute later.

"Jane?" he asks, clearly irked. "What are you doing here?"

Jane spins on the spot, still holding one of Bosco's books, a large volume on ballistics. Jane grins. "Bosco," he says, noticing that Bosco is still holding open the door. This conversation promises to be a short one, then. "You mentioned that you wanted to go over the Red John case."

Bosco scoffs. "Not with you."

It's now Jane who's irked. "I'm just here to offer my assistance. There's no need to be hostile."

The older man scowls at this. "God knows why Lisbon condones your methods, Jane. I doubt she even knows for sure. But how many years have you had this case? Your methods are clearly not working here. So let me do my job." He steps toward Jane, letting go of the door, which swings shut behind him. "The Red John case is not going to be solved by a charlatan out for revenge. It's going to be solved like all the other cases I've worked - with good, old-fashioned police work. That means cops like me asking the same questions a hundred times until I get the answer I want. Your methods are flashy, sure." Bosco shrugs. "But they don't get results. Mine do."

Jane watches Bosco as he speaks, reading him. _Mid-fifties, aggressively heterosexual, unhappy marriage_ , he thinks. He nearly rolls his eyes.

He waits for a beat after Bosco finishes. Then he parries back. "Lisbon kicked you out of her office, didn't she?"

Bosco's expression gives everything away.

Jane grins, deciding not to pull any punches. "Ah," he says knowingly. "Rejection doesn't sting any less the second time around, does it?"

And before Bosco can say anything, Jane darts, depositing the book in Bosco's hands as he moves to the door.

Halfway down the corridor, Jane hears Bosco swear loudly. As Jane waits for the elevator, Bosco exits his office to exchange several words with Rebecca, and Jane knows he's getting her to call someone to sweep the office for bugs.

Jane grins.

Good thing he doesn't plan on planting the bug until _after_ Bosco has swept for it.

* * *

Jane strolls through the hallway at 1:33 AM, his path illuminated only by the soft light of the quarter moon streaming in through the windows. He avoids the areas where he knows he will be caught on security footage, sticking to the shadows and the cameras' blindspots.

A sharp pang near his shoulder reminds him that he has forgotten to take his pain medication again. He take a deep breath and attempts a biofeedback trick he'd learned years ago to control the pain, knowing there are more important things he needs to be doing at the moment than worrying about his injury.

Certain in his knowledge that it is one of the last places Bosco will look, Jane hides the bug in the back corner of the bookshelf, whistling slightly as he does so.

* * *

The next morning, Lisbon arrives in her office, staring for a few seconds at her empty couch. Though she won't admit it, she'd half-expected it to be already occupied. She shakes herself and then tosses her bag on the couch with a sigh, reminding herself that it's been less than twenty-four hours since Jane had "left" the team. She wonders vaguely how long they'll keep the game afoot. It hadn't been something they had talked about specifically, and Lisbon is under the impression that Jane himself hadn't known how long the con would last.

The thought is not altogether reassuring.

Leads have been slow in coming for the open cases currently assigned to her team, so Lisbon moves to her desk, intending to make a dent in the paperwork that she is behind on. This, at least, is one thing she will not miss about having Jane around - his presence usually doubles the amount of legal forms she has to complete. _Is it even possible for him to make it through a case without being reprimanded? Doubtful._

Lisbon is pulling out her chair when she sees it - a small origami swan placed deliberately in the center of her desk. She picks it up and notices that the paper from which it was made appears to be torn out of a book, and she wonders which of her volumes is missing a page. Her second thought is to marvel at the dexterity involved in making the swan one-handed.

As she tucks the swan into her jacket pocket for safekeeping, she can't help but smile.


	10. Chapter 10

**AN: Sorry for the long wait on this chapter! It gave me lots of trouble, but I'm finally happy with how it turned out. Thanks for reading!**

* * *

 _One week later_

Lisbon shuts off the engine and glances around the nearly-deserted motel parking lot. Her headlights reflect off the wet pavement, and she closes her eyes, listening to the rain pound down upon the roof of her car. She considers waiting for a few minutes to see if the downpour will lighten up, but just as the thought enters her head, a flash of lightning illuminates the sky. The darkness returns a second later, accompanied by a crack of thunder that shakes the car. " _To hell with it_ ," she says under her breath, killing the headlights then bolting across the lot to the nearest overhang, trying to dodge puddles as she runs.

She's glad Jane decided to switch motels, though this one looks every bit as grimy and run-down as the previous one. However, unlike the old motel, the new one lacks the large bloodstain at the door to Jane's room, making it infinitely preferable.

Lisbon knocks loudly to be heard over the sounds of the storm. Seconds later, the door opens a sliver, and she slips inside.

"Jane?" she whispers, and suddenly she is wrapped in a one-armed hug.

"Lisbon," he says, his voice rough and deep. "I missed you."

She relaxes into him, letting her guard down for the first time in a week. "I missed you, too."

"You got my note, then?"

"I almost didn't," she admits, pulling back to look at him in the half-light from the lone, dim lamp on the table near the bed. She's not sure if the sallowness of his skin is a result of the poor lighting or the recent hell he's been through, but she thinks it's the latter. "I didn't think to unfold the origami swan until this morning. By the way," she adds, "how the hell did you write the note? Or, better yet, fold the swan? I thought you were right-handed." She gestures to his paralyzed arm, but he's not paying attention.

"Your hair," he says, gazing at her intently and reaching up to brush her new bangs out of her eyes. "You cut it."

Lisbon can't seem to hold his gaze, and she feels herself blushing. "It was time for a change."

"It's lovely."

The blushing intensifies, and she tries to figure out how to respond.

Jane runs his fingers through her hair, then drops them to her elbow. "You weren't followed, right?" he asks, changing the subject. "I don't think Red John knows where I am at the moment, and I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

"Not to my knowledge," says Lisbon. "And I'm more careful after…well, after."

"Right."

Her eyes rove over him, as though making up for lost time. "How are you feeling?" she asks tentatively, feeling out of breath.

He smirks. "And by that you mean, 'Have you regained feeling, Jane?'"

"Well, that, too."

He just gives her a sad smile, and that is all the answer she needs.

"I'm sorry," she whispers.

He shrugs with one shoulder. "Meh," he says. "I'll survive."

She's not sure how to console him, not sure that anything can, so she grabs his hand and holds it.

"Can I take a look at your wounds?" she asks. "Make sure the they're healing okay?"

He lets her lead him to the bathroom, and she flips the light switch. The light bulb flickers once, twice before deciding to remain on as Lisbon steps inside, pulling Jane after her. The bathroom is too small and in desperate need of a remodel, but Lisbon ignores this, instead focusing on Jane. She reaches for his sling, helping him out of it, and places it on the counter.

She slides the jacket off next, noticing the absence of his usual vest underneath. Jane catches her eye and reads her thoughts.

"Buttons are hell with one hand," he says darkly, so low that Lisbon can barely hear him. He sighs. "So are a lot of things, apparently. Like, for instance, tying my shoes. And opening a teabag. And –" He cuts himself off and looks at the ground. "I'm sorry," he says, releasing a deep breath. "I don't mean to be like this. It's just…"

"It's okay," says Lisbon. "I want to know what you're thinking. I don't want you to get lost inside yourself." She unbuttons his shirt as she says this and slips it off his shoulders. Lisbon reaches up to touch the marred skin. "What's your pain level?"

"Manageable," says Jane.

"Better than last week?"

He nods. "Infinitely."

"Good," says Lisbon, stepping closer to look at the wounds. "Look, I'm not a doctor," she says finally, "but everything seems to be okay. I think we should take the stitches out, though, since the nurse in ICU said they should come out around this time. Hold on." Lisbon ducks out of the bathroom to grab her purse, which she'd dropped on the floor when Jane had hugged her. She walks back to the bathroom, rifling through it, and finally finds what she is looking for.

Jane's eyes grow wide. "You keep a Swiss army knife in your purse?"

Lisbon smirks at him. "You only think you know everything about me," she says, flipping open the scissors. "Hold still."

He looks away as she cuts at the stitches patching up his two gunshot wounds. A minute later, she tosses the string into the garbage bin. "Done," she says.

Jane turns to face the mirror, and Lisbon watches as he raises his left hand to his right shoulder. "I hate this," he whispers. "I'm going to carry a sign of him with me now. Always. It's as though he's carved his mark into my skin, but somehow this feels worse."

Lisbon steps between him and the mirror, reaching for his good hand. She intertwines her fingers with his and looks up at him, waiting for him to continue.

Jane shakes his head. "Actually, if it were just that, I think I could deal with it. But it's not just the constant reminder of Red John, and it's not just the little things like buttons." His eyes darken. "I offered you two arms to hold you. And now I can't even give you that. Lisbon, there are so many men out there with more to offer you."

His tone is not pitiful or laced with self-loathing. Rather, it's sad, as though he's convinced himself that he is not enough, and this crushes her.

"What brought this on?" she asks, but as soon as the words are out of her mouth, it hits her. "Bosco," she says, rolling her eyes. "Damn it, Jane – you pick _now_ to suddenly start acting like a normal male?"

"You have a history with him – a history that I don't share with you. And, irrational or not, I'm jealous of the years he got to spend with you that I know nothing about. I mean, I know you and I were living different lives back then. Hell, I was an entirely different person. But one minute in a room with you two was enough to tell me that you shared something that I'll never be able to understand."

"You're jealous? Of Bosco?" Lisbon can't seem to comprehend this. How is it possible that Jane is jealous of anyone?

"Of him, and of others like him," Jane admits. "People who have more to offer you than I do."

Lisbon just stares at him, dazed.

"If you weren't recovering from being shot, I'd punch you in the nose right now," she says finally, and she rocks forward on her toes to kiss him.

"Well, thank goodness for that," murmurs Jane against her lips, and she tilts her head back to give him better access to her neck. Her hands move automatically to the bare skin of his chest, and then she slides one hand up to tangle in the hair at the nape of his neck. He presses an open-mouthed kiss to her collarbone, and she arches into him.

They pull apart but rest their foreheads together, breathing heavily. Then she looks up at him.

"Hold me," she says, and it is not a request. "I'd rather have only one of your arms around me than two of anyone else's."

Jane nods, and his left arm snakes around her waist, pulling her close. Lisbon rests her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeats drown out the sounds of the outside storm.


	11. Chapter 11

**AN: Thanks for the amazing response to last chapter. I was blown away by the wonderful comments you all left. Here's part II of Jane and Lisbon's conversation.**

* * *

She feels Jane lower his lips to her hair, feels him breathe in deeply. She shivers when he breathes out, the air tickling her skin. He sighs. "Typical of me," he says. "I never once asked how you were doing. The past couple weeks must have been hard on you as well."

Her response is automatic. "I'm fine," she says without thinking. "Really."

Jane pulls back, and Lisbon's eyes flash up to meet his. "Right," he says, scoffing. "Do you really expect me to believe that?"

"No," admits Lisbon wryly. "I was hoping the combination of pain and intense medication had dulled your superpowers."

Jane chuckles. "They have, to an extent," he says. "But I pay special attention to you, so it roughly evens out." Lisbon ducks her head, looking away, but Jane won't be dissuaded. "Tell me, Lisbon," he says softly.

She glances up at him, not expecting for her vision to become locked onto his – but once their gazes meet, she cannot look away. And she cannot say no, not to him.

"You don't have any reason to be jealous of my relationship with Sam Bosco," she says. "Especially considering what he said to me the moment you left my office."

Jane doesn't say anything, waiting for her to continue.

So she does. "He knows I slept with you," Lisbon says. "He could tell from observing us together in the hallway."

"And?" Jane's voice is gentle.

"Turns out Bosco is the jealous type, too," says Lisbon.

"What did he say to you?"

Lisbon has to look away at this, knowing she can't bear to watch Jane's face when she reveals the answer to his question. She chooses to look instead at their intertwined fingers, which have twisted together of their own accord.

"He told me that I didn't sleep with married men back at SFPD," she says, her voice low.

Jane is silent for a second too long. "What happened between you two back in San Francisco?" he asks eventually, and from his tone Lisbon knows Jane is uncertain about whether or not he wants to hear the answer.

Lisbon moves her thumb back and forth absentmindedly on the back of Jane's hand. "We got assigned a case not long after we became partners. A serial killer targeting young women. It was slow going. Really slow going. Finally, after a few years, we figured out who he was. But he was smart – we couldn't tie him to any of the scenes. We had absolutely no forensic evidence linking him to any of the murders, nothing that we could use to build a case that would stand up in court." Lisbon glances at Jane. "Then he became interested in me."

Jane's hand tightens around her own, and she lays her other hand on his chest over his heart.

"I found a note in my apartment after I came home from work one evening, and I didn't even have to read it to know it was from him. I panicked, naturally, and went straight to Bosco's. He assigned me a couple cops as a protective detail, but it never felt like that was enough. I don't think I really slept for a month." Lisbon takes a deep breath. "Anyway, a few weeks after I found the note, Bosco suddenly called me into his office one night to say he was withdrawing my protective detail. I was surprised, as you'd probably expect given that Bosco had insisted on the protective detail in the first place, but he told me not to worry. 'Everything has been taken care of,' he said." Lisbon shakes her head. "Jane, it was scary – I've never seen him like that before. It was almost like he was the calm in the middle of a hurricane. I'm not sure how else to describe it."

"Bosco killed your stalker," deduces Jane.

"I never found out for sure," admits Lisbon, "but there were no more bodies with that particular MO. The timing can hardly be coincidental."

Jane lets go of Lisbon's hand and wraps his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "I can't say I disapprove of the end result," he whispers.

Lisbon ignores this. "To answer your question, nothing happened between Bosco and I," she says. "But it _almost_ did. Before I left his office that night, he told me the case caused him to reevaluate his life and his choices. He said he had about a million regrets in his life that he could live with, but there was one that he couldn't. Then he told me that he wanted to give us a shot – that he didn't want one of us to die one day without knowing what we could have been like. Together."

Jane's arm is warm and steady around her, and Lisbon focuses on this. "And then?" Jane asks.

"I couldn't think straight," Lisbon continues, "so I said something obvious like _you're married_. I think he offered to leave Mandy, but I was running out the door at that point. And I kept running – I put in an application for the CBI the next day."

They are silent for a few minutes, and Lisbon can feel Jane's heart gradually slow to a normal rate under her hand. Finally, he speaks.

"Stay," he says. "With me."

Lisbon immediately protests, albeit halfheartedly. "Jane, I have to be at work early tomorrow morning for my appointment with the shrink. It's mandatory after a shooting –"

"You can reschedule. Say you're not feeling well. It's not like that would even be a lie."

She pulls back to look him in the eye, and that is her first mistake. It's mesmerizing, she realizes, his ability to hypnotize her without even a word. Her second mistake is letting him do so.

"Lisbon, please. Just…just stay."

He's already leading her toward the bed before she answers, and he turns down the corner of the comforter, letting her slip in before he does. She toes off her shoes, and he follows her lead. Then he pulls her against him under the covers.

She feels his leg wrap over her own, covering her in warmth, and she relents, leaning into him.

"Okay," she exhales.


	12. Chapter 12

**AN: Thanks for being so patient on this update! Hopefully it's worth the wait! And thanks, as always, for reviewing - your comments definitely speed up the process of writing!**

* * *

Weeks pass before she hears from him again.

Though she understands why he wants to keep his distance, this doesn't make their separation any easier. She feels perpetually nauseous – unsurprisingly, she worries exponentially more about him when he is out of her sight.

But almost as though he truly is reading her mind, an origami swan or frog or flower will appear on her desk after a particularly rough night or case. This time around, however, none contain writing folded within.

"Teresa?"

Lisbon mentally shakes herself, returning to the present, and focuses on the woman in front of her. Light, bright, blue eyes stare back, questioning but not intrusive, and it feels so very different from being cold-read by Jane.

Dr. Miller tucks a stray strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear. "Everything okay?"

Lisbon nods. "Yes, fine," she says. "I'm fine."

Dr. Miller shifts in her seat and crosses her ankles. "We're here to talk about anything you want, you know. Anything you think would help."

Lisbon nods again. "I know," she says. And she does. She'd first called Dr. Miller to ask for a favor after cancelling on the CBI shrink for the third time. She's not sure if it's the fact that the shrink was CBI or male or just plain creepy, but she couldn't bring herself to follow through with an appointment. Dr. Miller, on the other hand, had come with Jane's endorsement, and that was more than enough for Lisbon.

They'd had their first appointment together weeks ago, and Dr. Miller had signed off on Lisbon's mandatory CBI paperwork. Lisbon had thanked her, breathed a sigh of relief as she walked out the doors of the office, and promptly turned around to walk right back in. They'd had another appointment since then, and now this, their third.

And Lisbon can honestly say she feels better because of them.

She's yet to bring up her worries about Jane in any of their sessions, though she knows that Dr. Miller probably knows more than she is letting on about whatever relationship Lisbon has with him.

Now, Dr. Miller just waits, patiently, for Lisbon to elaborate.

Lisbon relents, knowing it will help to talk through her anxieties, though she decides not to give specifics.

"I'm involved with someone," she says slowly, testing out the words.

Dr. Miller nods, encouraging her to continue.

"We're not together," says Lisbon. "I mean, I think – well, _I know_ – that he wants to be, but…"

"What do _you_ want?"

Lisbon shrugs. "I don't know," she says honestly. "I want him in my life, but I also want him to be healthy, and I'm not sure us being together would be good for him." She makes the mistake of meeting Dr. Miller's eyes again, and she knows the psychiatrist has figured out that Lisbon is speaking of Jane. "I don't think he's ready, and I'm scared to find out what would happen if we tried to make this work before he is. I'm scared to find out what would happen if we didn't work."

Dr. Miller jots down a few words on her clipboard, and Lisbon glances away, focusing her attention on the many diplomas hanging on the wall.

"You haven't spoken with him about this yet, I presume?" asks Dr. Miller.

Lisbon hesitates. "We've…danced around the topic. At one point, we had mutually decided it was best to ignore this, but then a few days later he almost died. And that…complicated things."

"Yes, I imagine it did." Dr. Miller looks up. "You care about him a great deal."

It's not a question.

"Yes."

"Do you love him?"

Lisbon's answer is immediate. "Almost," she says. "I think I will, someday." She avoids Dr. Miller's eyes again. "I guess I'm really wondering here if we're going to doom ourselves by beginning a relationship before we're ready. In your experience, can _almost_ be enough?"

Dr. Miller leans back in her chair, breathing in deeply and then letting out the breath. "From what I've seen? And being completely honest?" She sighs. "Most of the time, it's not. But that doesn't mean you can't be the exception."

Lisbon nods, looking down to the plush carpeting on the ground. "Right."

"Not what you wanted to hear, I know," says Dr. Miller with a sad smile. "But that's my job, unfortunately." She pauses, letting her composure slip for the first time. "Is he okay? You said he almost died."

"He was shot in the shoulder. Twice. His right arm is likely paralyzed permanently."

"My god."

"Yeah. He's struggling," Lisbon admits. "But wouldn't anybody?"

The shrill sound of a cell phone ringtone cuts through the heavy silence at that moment, and Lisbon grabs her phone from her pocket, glancing at the caller ID.

It's Jane.

"I'm so sorry, Dr. Miller, but I have to take this. Same time next month?"

"I'll put you on my schedule."

"Thanks," says Lisbon, pushing the frosted glass door open and stepping into the brightly lit hallway. "Jane," she says. "Did something happen?"

He's breathing heavily, and he speaks so quickly that his words blur together. "You need to arrest Rebecca Anderson. She's armed, Lisbon, so be careful."

"Jane – what happened?"

"There was a shooting at the CBI. I already called an ambulance."

Lisbon takes off at a run, dodging passerby and ignoring their alarmed looks.

" _Who was shot?_ " But she thinks she already knows the answer.

"I bugged Bosco's office a few weeks ago," says Jane. "I wanted to stay updated on developments in the Red John case. I was listening just now – Rebecca entered the office and shot everyone inside. Bosco and his team."

Lisbon races across the parking lot. "Jane, stay where you are until I pick you up later today. Lock your door. If Rebecca is still at the CBI, I don't want you anywhere near that building."

"Understood," he says, sounding like he doesn't need to be told twice. "Lisbon?" he adds, and she thinks she hears his voice break. "Please be careful. _Please_."

She ignores this. "The CBI's going to question you, and they'll realize how we found out. I don't need to tell you what you've done is illegal."

"I'll deal with that when the time comes," says Jane. "Just take her in, Lisbon."

She reaches the car and throws herself inside, starting up the engine and reversing out of her parking spot. "Stay put, Jane," she repeats, and presses her foot to the gas.


	13. Chapter 13

**AN: I know some people have wanted longer chapters, so here you go! Thanks again for following this story. There are two chapters left after this, so we're almost at the end.**

 **Also, in this story we're going to ignore the fact that gun silencers (called suppressors in real life) don't actually silence gunshots, seeing as the show also ignored this minute detail.**

* * *

Lisbon ends her call with Jane then presses the second number on speed dial. While the phone rings, she turns on the SUV's sirens and swerves around a truck.

"Cho."

Lisbon wastes no time with niceties. "Rebecca Anderson shot Bosco and his team this morning in his office. Jane overheard because he bugged the room the last time he was at the CBI. He already called in an ambulance. It only happened a few minutes ago, so I need you to track Rebecca down – she may not have been able to leave the CBI yet. But approach her with caution – you need to assume she's armed and dangerous. Take Van Pelt with you. Tell Rigsby to get over to Bosco's office and do what he can until the ambulance gets there."

"We're on it."

Lisbon hears shuffling in the background.

"I'm fifteen minutes out, but I'll get there as soon as I can."

"We got this, Boss. Don't worry."

And Cho ends the call.

* * *

Cho gestures to Rigsby and Van Pelt before Lisbon has finished her explanation, and they wordlessly gather around Van Pelt's computer.

He hangs up. "We need access to the building's security cameras. We're looking for Rebecca Anderson."

Van Pelt doesn't question him as she taps furiously on her keyboard. Seconds later, they are staring at live feeds from several security cameras. "Focus on the cameras in remote parts of the building where she can get out unnoticed."

Van Pelt immediately narrows down the search to four cameras, and Rigsby spots Rebecca a second later. "There," he says, pointing. "South exit."

Van Pelt raises her eyebrows at Cho, who is removing his gun from its holster. "Cho, what's going on?"

"Jane has ears on Bosco's office, and he just heard Rebecca Anderson shoot Bosco and his teammates."

"My god," says Van Pelt.

Rigsby swears. "Silencer?"

"Must have had one," Cho agrees.

Cho is already heading toward the staircase. "Van Pelt, with me. Rigsby, go to Bosco's office. The paramedics should be here soon." They follow him, and Rigsby heads up the stairs, taking them three at a time, while Cho and Van Pelt run down.

"Should we put the building on lockdown?" asks Van Pelt.

"Rebecca doesn't know we're looking for her. Putting the building on lockdown will show our hand. I don't want to do that, especially if she has an accomplice waiting in the wings to help if something goes wrong."

They hurdle down the last few steps, clearing the landing, and burst through the door. Guns raised, they sprint through the bowels of the back of the CBI, moving through half-lit corridors.

The sound of clicking heels echoes back to them, and they share a glance. Van Pelt nods, and they speed up simultaneously. They turn one last corner and blast through the door to the outside, where the Sacramento heat is already oppressive despite the early hour.

A short, stubby profile is walking away from them down the parking lot.

"Rebecca Anderson!" shouts Cho. When they get within distance, he slows down, as does Van Pelt. Rebecca freezes. "Hands where I can see them."

"Drop the purse!" adds Van Pelt, sweeping out to the side.

Rebecca doesn't move.

" _Now!_ " says Cho. "Hands where I can see them!"

Rebecca drops her purse and pivots.

"Agent Cho!" she sputters. "Whatever is the matter?"

"Hands on your head," says Cho.

"Agent Cho?" repeats Rebecca, her eyebrows skyrocketing into her short haircut. "Am I being arrested? On what charges?"

"You know very well," Van Pelt says, and Cho thinks it almost sounds like a growl.

Rebecca stares at them for a second before she smiles. "Yes," she says, raising her hands to her head. "Yes, I do."

Cho steps forward and moves quickly to cuff her, and once he does, Van Pelt grabs the discarded purse. "Van Pelt," Cho says gruffly, pushing Rebecca back to the door. "Put the building on lockdown."

* * *

Cho recites Rebecca's Miranda rights and brings her to the team's usual interrogation room, knowing that Lisbon will want Rebecca supervised but out of the way when the paramedics arrive and the scene is processed. He hears sirens as soon as he closes the door and spares a second to hope they've made it in time to save the team.

Cho indicates for Rebecca to sit. She does, but he remains standing. "Why'd you do it?" he asks, leaning against the wall. He crosses his arms across his chest.

Rebecca just stares at him, one corner of her mouth curled upward.

"Does this have to do with Red John?"

Rebecca doesn't answer, but her smile grows wider.

"I'll take that as a yes," says Cho. "Did Bosco find something that could lead him to Red John?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" she says, and there's a sour sweetness to the lilt of her voice.

Cho has to restrain himself from rolling his eyes.

A few minutes pass, and Rebecca's smile finally disappears. "How did you know it was me so quickly?"

"Wouldn't you like to know?" parrots Cho.

Rigsby pushes open the door at that moment, sparing one glance for the cuffs around Rebecca's hands and ankles before he turns to Cho. "Paramedics just got here," he says. "You're team leader until Lisbon arrives. You should be at the scene. I'll watch her."

"Thanks," Cho says, and Rigsby nods.

Cho takes the stairs again, this time up instead of down, and hesitates a moment before opening the door to the main hallway. He takes a breath, composing himself, and then moves forward.

The hallway and office are bustling, paramedics and uniforms swarming around the scene like bees around a hive. Cho immediately spots Minelli and moves toward him, and they watch two paramedics hoist Bosco onto a stretcher.

Lisbon appears in the hallway, the sound of her heels echoing behind her as she runs. Cho watches her nearly skid to a halt and then step to the side, looking on as a paramedic wheels Bosco out of the office and past them down the hall. Lisbon's face is pallid, almost ghostly, and she ducks inside the office. Cho watches as she leans on the bookshelf for support.

After about a minute, Lisbon exits the office and heads toward Cho and Minelli, and Cho fills them in on what he's learned.

"Rebecca is one of Red John's people," he says.

This doesn't seem to surprise Lisbon, though it does Minelli. "Did Bosco and his team find something on him then? Did they catch a break?" he asks.

"No idea," says Cho honestly.

Minelli lets out a deep breath. "Lisbon, I can't assign the case to anyone else. No other team is nearly as qualified. That means I want you on Bosco's case as well."

"And I need to be on it," responds Lisbon.

They all look to the office, where the paramedics are working on the two remaining members of Bosco's team with much less urgency. Cho swears under his breath.

"We need to start processing the scene," says Lisbon, and Cho knows she's already mentally switched over to homicide detective. "The paramedics can't do anything more, so I want them out before they start contaminating evidence. We also need to get Jane here – I want him to help question Rebecca."

"Where is Jane?" asks Cho.

"He's fine – he's at his hotel room. I need to head over to pick him up now. I don't want him by himself with everything that's happened the past few weeks. Cho, could you take lead on processing the scene? Don't let anyone in apart from you, Rigsby, and Van Pelt."

"You got it, Boss," says Cho. He treads carefully with his next question. "Bosco had a pulse?"

"It was weak, but it was there," says Minelli. A wave of exhaustion seems to overtake him. "I need to report to my boss's boss," he says. "First Jane, and now three more of our own..." He steps back, looking haunted, and heads down the hall.

Cho reaches out to touch Lisbon's elbow. "You should go to the hospital. Be there when Bosco wakes up."

"I can't do anything for him at the hospital," she says. "He needs me here. I'm useful here."

They hold each other's gaze for a few seconds before Cho nods, relenting. "We'll get him, Lisbon."

Lisbon doesn't respond to this. "I'll be back as soon as I can," she says instead, and disappears down the hallway.

* * *

The door, its paint peeling to reveal several layers of different colors underneath, opens before Lisbon can knock, and she slips inside. Jane looks shaken, but his expression changes an instant later, replaced by his neutral, unreadable mask. She vaguely registers that he is wearing a vest but no sling. She knows better than to hope he has regained use of his arm since they last saw each other, but at the very least she hopes this is a good sign.

"Bosco survived?" asks Jane.

"He's alive," confirms Lisbon. "For the moment, at least."

"Don't you want to be at the hospital?" The words appear to be difficult for him to say, and it surprises Lisbon all over again that Jane is capable of showing human emotions like jealousy.

"Not particularly," says Lisbon. "His wife will be by his side, and she won't want me there. Hell, it's difficult for _me_ to want to be there, considering how Bosco has treated me recently." Lisbon squares her shoulders. "I'll go to see him," she says. "Just not right away."

Jane nods in understanding.

"What did you hear?" Lisbon asks. "How did you know it was Rebecca?"

"Bosco and his team had just arrived. They were starting to go over notes on the Red John case – and shocker, really, but they've made no progress since it was handed over to them." He begins to tap his index finger against his leg nervously. "There was a knock, and Bosco greeted Rebecca by name. She must have hesitated because he asked if she was okay. She said that she was. Then I heard the bodies fall, and after, she said, 'Red John says hi.' I wrote a transcript of the conversation for you." He reaches into his vest pocket and pulls out a sheet of paper.

Lisbon scans it and nods. "And you were listening after that as well?" asks Lisbon.

"Obviously. Until someone found the bug, that is. I'm guessing that was you?"

Lisbon reaches into her pocket and pulls out the small transmitting device, which she'd crushed in her hand upon swiping it from the bookshelf.

"That's borderline obstruction of justice, Lisbon."

She groans. "Don't remind me."

He takes a step forward. "Thank you," he whispers.

"Don't make me do it again." She sighs, contemplating. "Our plan backfired," she whispers. "There's no way for us to keep our distance now. Not after this."

"It's one of Red John's more drastic moves," Jane admits grudgingly. "I certainly didn't anticipate it."

"That makes two of us," Lisbon says, stepping back. But she catches a glimpse of his eyes, and they're _wild_. She's only ever seen him like this one time before – after she'd nearly been shot by Hardy. So she inches forward, stretching up to kiss the corner of his mouth.

Jane takes a shaky breath.

Lisbon steps back and gestures to the door. "Let's go – I want you there when I interview Rebecca."

She makes to open the door, but Jane reaches out to block her. "We should…we should talk about what this means for us. At some point."

Lisbon hesitates, her hand on the doorknob. "Yes," she says, avoiding his gaze. "When the smoke clears."

Jane nods in agreement, moving away from the door. Lisbon opens it, and he falls into step beside her.


	14. Chapter 14

**AN: I'm stoked about these final chapters, so I'm going to try to post them quickly. Hope you like them! And thanks for your continued support!**

 **I borrowed some dialogue from "His Red Right Hand" for this chapter, but I don't own The Mentalist.**

* * *

She catches Jane's eye before they enter Bosco's office. He looks tired and wary, like he's preparing himself for what's to come. She knows she must be wearing a similar expression.

They step inside.

Van Pelt is already taking photographs; Cho is meticulously taking notes. Both look up when Lisbon and Jane enter, and Van Pelt steps toward Lisbon.

"I'm nearly done with documenting the scene," she says. "I've done all the far range and mid-range shots, and I'm just finishing up on some of the fine details. Bagging and tagging evidence is next."

"Anything useful?"

Cho shakes his head. "Nothing that gets us any closer to Red John's identity, no. But we still have to search Anderson's desk as well as her home and car. Something may turn up there."

Van Pelt takes a few more close-up pictures then stows the camera away. She grabs a handful of evidence bags.

"Hold on," says Jane. "Let me do a walkthrough before you move anything."

"Of course," says Van Pelt, and she and Cho step to the side as Jane moves around the office. Lisbon follows, mentally checking off items she normally examines at every scene.

They don't find anything, which doesn't surprise Lisbon. If evidence of Rebecca's motives will turn up anywhere, they're not going to get it here.

Jane points to the files on Bosco's desk. "Is it okay if I take these?" he asks.

"They're the Red John files?" says Lisbon.

Jane nods.

"Knock yourself out," says Lisbon. "They're ours now, anyway. Why don't you take them downstairs and see if there's anything new? We'll be there as soon as we've finished processing the office and Rebecca's desk."

Jane brushes past her, touching his shoulder to hers. Both Van Pelt and Cho notice, though Cho has enough tact to pretend to be writing something down in his notebook. Van Pelt raises an eyebrow and hands a pair of gloves to Lisbon. "Shall we?"

Lisbon grabs the proffered gloves and a handful of evidence bags. "Let's do this."

* * *

A couple hours later, the bodies of Bosco's teammates have been moved to the morgue, and the evidence has been locked away in the basement where it awaits shipment to the lab. Lisbon's team lines up in front of the one-way mirror looking into their usual interrogation room, watching Rebecca as she taps her fingers against the table.

"Jane, you ready?" asks Lisbon.

She sees his profile nod, and he follows her out.

Rebecca looks up when they enter, but she doesn't say anything. Neither does Jane, and Lisbon follows his lead as they sit down.

The silence is almost unbearable, but finally after a few minutes, Jane speaks.

"Why did you kill Bosco and his team?"

Rebecca lets out a patronizing chuckle. "Red John speaks so highly of you. He was sure you'd understand. Perhaps you aren't everything he thought you were."

"I looked through the files on the case. Bosco hadn't found anything new, which means he wasn't any closer to Red John than we were when we lost the case. Why target Bosco?"

Rebecca pouts and shakes her head, clearly disappointed. "People give you too much credit, Mr. Jane."

But while Jane appears flummoxed, Lisbon breathes in quickly, feeling neural connections spark in her brain.

 _What if_ … _what if Red John knows about Jane and I?_ she thinks. She grudgingly admits to herself that she and Jane hadn't done a very good job at hiding their relationship (however they define it). Bosco had figured it out, after all. He could have said something to Rebecca. And if Rebecca had been working for Red John all along, she could have passed the information on to him.

Red John could also have seen them together during any of the nights Lisbon had spent in Jane's bed. Or any of the nights Jane had spent in hers.

If in fact Red John knew they were together, he'd be arrogant enough to want them to know their plans of keeping their distance were futile. He wouldn't want Jane to think he was one step ahead. He'd also want to take advantage of any opportunity to manipulate their feelings for each other, which was much easier to do if they weren't pretending to be estranged.

Thus, the need to bring Jane back into Lisbon's life by reassigning her the case.

Lisbon's eyes narrow.

Rebecca notices. "Ah," she says. "Mr. Jane, perhaps you should ask Agent Lisbon. It seems she understands what you do not."

Jane glances at Lisbon out of the corner of his eye but returns his attention to Rebecca.

"Agent Lisbon is right," says Rebecca, "but there's one other reason why Bosco's team needed to be dealt with." She leans forward, the chains on her hands scraping against the table. "Red John misses you, Mr. Jane."

Lisbon feels an overwhelming sense of nausea. It must show on her face because Rebecca looks at her with feigned concern. "Agent Lisbon, are you unwell?"

Lisbon stands and moves toward the one-way mirror, resting her back against the cool glass. She takes a deep breath. "Tell us about Red John," she says. "How did you first meet him?"

Rebecca shakes her head. "I'm not telling you anything about him."

"You will," says Jane. "You'll wake up one day, horrified of what you've done, and you will tell us everything."

"No, never," says Rebecca, and her eyes light up as though she is talking about a lover. "I love Red John, and he loves me. I will never betray that trust. He enlightened me, just like he enlightened you, Mr. Jane, and I am forever in his debt."

"And how exactly did he enlighten me, might I ask?"

Rebecca smiles. "You were blind before he killed your wife and daughter. Now you see. Red John taught you that there is no light without darkness. He taught you that there is no life without death."

"There won't be much of a life for you at this point regardless of what you think you know about death," says Lisbon, stepping toward the table and leaning against it on her hands. "You've given us a confession. That means you'll die in prison. It's just a matter of how long it will take before you do."

But Rebecca just closes her eyes, leans back in her chair, and smiles. Lisbon looks over at Jane, flabbergasted, and they leave the room together, locking the door behind them.

Rigsby, Van Pelt, and Cho join them in the hallway. "Rigsby, take her down to holding," says Lisbon. "We're not going to get anything else out of her."

"I agree," says Jane.

"You want Van Pelt and I to head to Anderson's house?" asks Cho. "Search and see what we can find?"

"Yes," says Lisbon. "My expectations are not high, but I want every possible avenue explored."

The team disperses, leaving Jane and Lisbon alone in the hallway. Jane touches Lisbon's elbow gently and gestures to the observation room. She follows him in.

"What happened back there?" he asks. "What did you realize?"

She tells him. His frown becomes more pronounced as he listens, and he rubs his hand over his face, clearly agitated.

"So he knows," says Jane.

"You think he'll use this?"

Jane scoffs. "It's not a question of 'if', Lisbon," he says. He looks at her with steely eyes, and her heart shatters. "I think," says Jane, sounding as though he's struggling to get each word out, and Lisbon doesn't have to be a fake psychic to know what's coming next. "I think we shouldn't...I think we shouldn't be involved any longer."

A few beats of silence pass. "Okay," says Lisbon finally, her tone unconsciously defensive. "Did you decide this before or after you heard Rebecca shoot Bosco?"

"After," says Jane immediately, but under Lisbon's intense glare, he appears to crumble. "Before," he says, and then he hesitates. "During," he says, clearly getting worked up. "All of the above. _I don't know!_ " He takes a deep breath to calm himself, but it doesn't work.

Lisbon has no idea what to say, so she leans a shoulder against the one-way mirror, and a minute passes in silence. Finally, Lisbon manages to construct a semi-coherent sentence. "I always thought that once we eventually got together, we'd never break up," she admits.

"I wouldn't call this a breakup, exactly," argues Jane.

Lisbon rolls her eyes, exasperated. "What exactly _would_ you call it? We were together, and now we're not."

They stare at each other, and it's a contest neither wants to lose. Then Jane cold-reads her.

"You had doubts, too. About us. Even before today." It's not a question.

Lisbon bites her lip. "You knew I had doubts because I told you about them. We discussed this that very first night."

For a fraction of a second, Lisbon thinks she sees him tear up. She knows she must be mistaken, however, because in the next instant, she only sees fury in his eyes.

"Right, well, now you don't have to worry," says Jane, his tone clipped. He's already pulled himself far away despite the fact that there is only a foot of distance between them. "No more lapses of judgement."

She takes a step forward. "Jane," she starts.

He disregards this and changes the subject. "Rebecca was right," he says. "You seem a little pale, Lisbon." But everything is all wrong – his words lack their usual warmth and concern, and he avoids her eyes.

Jane moves toward the door.

They walk together down the hall, but Jane keeps his hand deliberately at his side. Lisbon immediately misses its weight on her lower back.

Then she casts away her doubts. They've made the right decision. The only decision.

She's just not sure how they'll be able to live with it.


	15. Chapter 15

**AN: When I began this fic in October, I knew how I wanted it to end but didn't know how to get there. Life happened and I didn't have the time to devote to this story, which is why I returned later to rewrite parts of it. At any rate, the final scene in this chapter is how I originally envisioned this story ending. I don't imagine everyone will like it, but it certainly leaves room for a continuation at some point.**

 **This chapter is a little different than the previous ones. It bounces back and forth in time between the night Jane and Lisbon first slept together and the present day. Past scenes are in italics; present scenes are in normal text. This chapter also toes the line between T and M, so just beware of that if it's not your cup of tea.**

 **Thanks for following along on this ride. I love writing for you all!**

* * *

She'll deny it a thousand times, but Lisbon cries over Jane that night.

It's all too much, the feelings that have been building since the night she almost died and then after _he_ almost died. She's been treading water for so long, and for a few minutes, she lets herself sink.

Particularly after the events of the last twelve hours, she thinks she's earned it.

Then she becomes angry. Because she and Jane are perfect for each other; of this she is certain. Had they been each other in any other life, they would have been happy _._ But she is Lisbon and he is Jane, and in this universe, _almost_ meant to be is just not enough.

So she cries, her mascara running down her face and staining her pillow. She lets herself feel, and hurt, and grieve. And it's crushing, the feeling of mourning the future. Because everything will change now.

 _It already has_ , she thinks, pulling her knees to her chest.

* * *

 _Jane pushes open the door to her office with his right hand, the summer sunset streaming through the windows and flooding the room in rose-colored light._

 _Lisbon looks up and stands, pushing away from her desk. "Where did you disappear to?" she asks, moving over to him. "We couldn't find you after we dropped Maya off."_

 _Jane shrugs. "Nowhere," he says. And it's true. He'd just been wandering, with nowhere in particular in mind. Shooting Hardy had put his entire memory palace into disarray, and he'd wanted space – and time – to try and make sense of it again._

 _He hadn't succeeded._

 _But, as usual, he had found himself drawn back to the CBI. It occurs to him, not for the first time, that Lisbon serves as a sort of homing beacon, always leading him back when he is lost._

 _Lisbon stops about a foot in front of him. "You saved my life," she says, her voice small._

 _"You told me I'd choose life," he reminds her. "You were right."_

 _Lisbon smirks at him. "Could you say that last part again so I can record it? I'd like to be able to play it back again when the situation calls for it."_

 _Jane laughs, a deep, bellyaching laugh. He'd almost forgotten what it felt like, to laugh like this. To smile. So he reaches for Lisbon and pulls her against him. To his surprise, she doesn't fight it. "I will always choose your life," Jane says, and he's a little shocked that he sounds almost reverent. "No matter the cost."_

 _He feels a drop of moisture land on his neck, and Lisbon ducks her head, clearly embarrassed. Jane just hugs her tighter._

 _He drops his forehead to her shoulder and takes a deep breath. Feeling her shake slightly, Jane turns his head slightly, intending to whisper something to her to help her calm down, but his lips unexpectedly come into contact with the skin of her neck. He feels her pulse racing underneath his lips, and suddenly he can't move._

 _Every heartbeat tells him she's alive._

 _His lips begin to move of their own accord, pressing almost-there kisses to her skin. Lisbon stiffens initially but relents immediately after, leaning into him and allowing him to trail his lips away from her neck and down her shoulder, pushing her blouse to the side._

 _Lisbon reaches out to steady herself, placing her hand on Jane's chest, and Jane comes back to himself. He starts, pulling back._

 _"Lisbon," he says, immediately apologetic. "I'm sorry – I didn't – I wasn't thinking –"_

 _Lisbon meets his eyes, and he's surprised to see hers are darker than he's ever seen them._

 _"Don't stop," she whispers._

 _So he doesn't._

* * *

Jane only fumbles slightly with his keys as he enters his motel room, a minor victory. He's almost gotten used to functioning with only one hand – he's mastered shoelaces and buttons, teabags and origami. He's come to accept that his disability has left him unable to perform the majority of his old sleight of hand tricks, but he's planning on developing new ones. Perhaps he can use them to get a smile or two out of Lisbon someday when all of this is over. God knows she deserves to laugh more often.

He flips on the light and glances down at his right hand, remembering when Lisbon had kissed it in the hospital. Her hands, her warmth, her body had become such a part of him recently that he feels as though he's lost a part of himself.

It's a feeling more paralyzing than losing his arm.

He shrugs out of his jacket and begins to undo the buttons on his vest. Tossing the vest on the unmade bed, he moves to the buttons on his shirt, then discards the shirt on the bed as well.

He steps toward the bathroom, turning on this light as well, and works up enough courage to look himself in the mirror for the first time in weeks.

Jane balks, taking a step back. The damaged skin look better, certainly, but his right arm has atrophied almost beyond belief. He knows he's never been physically strong per se, but he'd never seen himself as weak.

Now he does.

Jane squeezes his eyes shut, trying to calm his breathing. When his heartrate is nearly under control, he opens his eyes.

His gaze is drawn to a small piece of paper tucked underneath a glass of water on the counter. Leery, Jane reaches out to grab it, knowing he hadn't left the paper there this morning.

When he registers what he's seeing, he jerks, knocking the glass of water to the floor. He thinks it shatters, but he doesn't actually hear it crash. His ears don't seem to be functioning – all he can hear is the blood rushing through them.

It's not just a sheet of paper. It's a greeting card.

With Red John's mark on the front.

Jane lunges toward the main room, grabbing his jacket and searching for his cell phone. He hits the first number on speed dial.

Lisbon doesn't answer, and the call goes to voicemail. Jane ends the call and tries again. Mercifully, Lisbon picks up.

"Sorry, Jane, I just stepped out of the bathroom," says Lisbon, her voice sounding hoarse. "Are you okay?"

Jane sits down on the bed, worried he might pass out. "Are _you_ okay?"

The silence on the other end tells him that Lisbon is flummoxed. "I'm fine," she says suddenly, and the words are too quick. "Did something happen?"

"He left a note," says Jane, the words quivering as they come out of his mouth. "Can I come over?"

Lisbon doesn't answer right away. Then she seems to pull herself together. "Yes. Yes, of course."

"Be right there."

* * *

 _They don't talk._

 _Lisbon tells herself this is to keep things impersonal, but she knows the real reason is that they are beyond words at this point. He knows her better than any lover she's ever had; he reads her thoughts before she has them._

 _So they move in silence and shadows in an unfamiliar motel room, his hands impossibly everywhere all at once. His lips follow his hands, teasing her skin, kissing her hips, her breasts, her navel._

 _She's never heard his breath so shaky, and it is thrilling._

 _She trails a finger up his spine, running over each of the individual vertebrae, and Jane moans, pressing his body more closely against hers. Lisbon smiles._

 _And yet, and yet, they rarely kiss. His lips don't meet hers until the moment he joins his body with hers, and even then, it's just for an instant. He shifts his head quickly, stilling his hips so that they can both just feel each other for a few seconds, and then begins kissing the corner of her jaw._

 _It's just what she needs. It's just what he needs._

 _And then he begins to move._

 _She meets him, gives as good as she takes. He doesn't last long, but she'd expected this, and he attends to her soon after._

 _Spent, they curl into each other and proceed to remain in silence. She feels his smile against the nape of her neck._

* * *

"I just needed to see you," Jane says when she opens the door. "I know I'm being ridiculous. But I just…"

"It's okay," she says, stepping aside to let him in and closing the door behind him. "Can I see it?"

He hands her the card. She spares a few seconds to take in the mark on the front before opening it. "You didn't tell me there was a message inside," she says, glancing up at him, and he thinks he sees real panic in her eyes for the first time since he's known her.

"It didn't even occur to me to look," he says honestly. And it's true – he's been more than a little preoccupied. He looks down at the card held in Lisbon's delicate yet sure fingers and feels his stomach sink. There's one word written in red ink.

 _Congratulations._

"I don't understand," says Jane, grabbing the card. He looks at Lisbon, helpless, but is surprised to find clarity rather than confusion in her eyes. "But you do, don't you?"

Lisbon's breath is unsteady. "I'm pregnant," she whispers.

Jane drops the card, and it flutters to the floor without a sound.


End file.
